


Home by Curfew

by Madophelia



Series: Drabbles & One-Shots [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Teenlock, Tumblr Prompt, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madophelia/pseuds/Madophelia
Summary: Just little fluff about Teenlock at a closed off crime scene. Sherlock wants John's help but John has to be home by curfew.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon. 
> 
> You can send my prompts [on Tumblr](http://ah-hudders.tumblr.com)

“I’m not sure, Sherlock.” John whispers, his breath fogging in the cold air, “Seems dodgy.” 

“It’ll be fine John, honestly. It’s just a park.” 

“Yeah but… it’s fenced off.” 

Sherlock smirks and shifts nearer to John in the dark. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.” 

“Sure,” John laughs, tucking an arm into Sherlock’s coat, “You’ll keep me safe. You’re liable to go storming off and get yourself arrested.” 

“I just want to see the crime scene,” Sherlock whines, using the exact voice that is liable to get John to agree. The one that means danger, the one that means John will like it too. The one that always works. 

“Fine, but quickly.” 

Sherlock already knows the exact point of entry so they make their way around to a gap in the fencing. There is police tape everywhere but Sherlock makes light work of ducking underneath it, squeezing through the gap and holding it aloft for John to duck underneath too. 

“This way.” Sherlock whispers, striding across the abandoned park. John can make out the swings and the slide in the moonlight. It could almost be romantic, nostalgic, if it wasn’t for the debris of police work littering the ground. 

The body isn’t there of course, they’ve moved it. But the scene is still cordoned off until the media fanfare dies down, lest people flood the area trying to catch a glimpse. People like Sherlock, John understands, but he can’t help but indulge him. 

Sherlock is hopping between areas of interest. A flattened bit of grass still stained dark that John imagines would be tinged red in the daylight. For now it’s washed out, dark grey. Sherlock is leaning over, inspecting it, moonlight glinting off his eyes. John wishes he didn’t find his boyfriend staring at a blood pool attractive, but there it is. 

“You about done?” John whispers, slightly louder to ensure Sherlock hears him. He’s looking around, being lookout. 

“Come over here.” Sherlock replies, flashing that smile that has John feeling slightly dizzy. 

“For God’s sake,” John grumbles affectionately, “make it quick. I’ve got to be back by 11”

“We’ve got ages.” Sherlock insists into John’s ear when he gets close. “Promise.” 

John cant find it in himself to argue. 

“Solved it then?” John asks instead. 

“Possibly. I need to talk to the brother.” 

“And how are you going to swing that?” John asks.

“He used to go to your school. Played on the rugby team.”

“No.” John says, folding his arms, “I’m not contacting him.” 

“But John--” 

“No. You’re always doing this to me and I look like an idiot.” 

Sherlock turns into him, tugging gently on John’s crossed elbow. “You don’t look like an idiot,” he rumbles, “In fact, you look rather good to me.” 

“Not happening.” 

John is adamant, but his arms loosen and Sherlock slips into his space, presses again him from chest to knee. It’s warm in the cold night air, Sherlock’s body solid yet moulded into him.

“John.” 

Sherlock’s hand finds its way into John’s coat, stroke around his waist to rest at the small of his back. Fingertips graze against the skin there where his tshirt is rucked up, sending electric shocks up John’s spine.

He sighs, tipping his head upwards to glare into Sherlock’s expectant face. It doens’t last. 

Sherlock’s eyes are magnificent in the dim light. They’re glinting in that excited way they get when Sherlock’s focussed on something he really wants. John’s pretty sure he isn’t thinking about the case any more though. 

Without words Sherlock leans down and John tips upwards. Fitting into each other like they always do. Sliding impossibly closer as their lips meet, warm breaths mingling in the close air so that they could be sharing air. 

It lingers, Sherlock’s hands steady on John’s back, John’s sliding upwards over Sherlock’s sleeves, curving over his shoulders, threading into his hair. He grips lightly at the hair at Sherlock’s nape and Sherlock rumbles am almost-silent moan into John’s mouth. 

John’s mouth curves into a smile. 

“Not fair.” Sherlock says moving away, biting a lip. 

“You’re the one trying to bribe me with kissing” John insists.

“Yes but, you’re employing unfair tactics.” 

John hasn’t dropped his hands so he applies slight pressure on Sherlock’s neck, guiding him to bend back down to kiss John again. It’s shorter this time, but John hears the hitch as Sherlock’s inhales slightly before their lips meet. A gasp, surprise. 

Sherlock deduces everything, he knew it was coming, but it makes John insensibly proud that it still feels like a surprise. He worries that it is because Sherlock is still amazed John can be with him like this. 

He looks at John with such wonderment sometimes, tells John how lucky he is as if John isn’t the most fortunate person ever to be able to witness Sherlock in action. 

When they pull away again Sherlock looks a bit wrecked. It shouldn’t please John the way it does, but he knows he’s a little bit not good, and that’s okay. 

“I know it’s unfair,” John says, “But I feel like I need to get a bit of my own back occasionally.” 

Sherlock smiles. He knows he’s got him. 

“You’ll talk to the brother?” 

“Yes I’ll talk to the bloody brother. Don’t I always?” 

“Yes.” Sherlock says stepping back only slightly so he can slide a hand into John’s and lead them away from the park, “but it’s fun when you make me convince you.”

John makes it home by 11 but he knows that Sherlock will be at his bedroom window an hour later. He’ll slide his body in beside John and press his cold feet onto the back of John’s calves, throw an arm over John’s waist and take up all of the space on the mattress. 

John won’t mind. He’s shuffle backwards against him, tuck himself small against Sherlock’s chest and close his eyes. In the morning Sherlock will be gone before John’s mum wakes him up, but the scent of him will linger in John’s bedsheets so that the only reason he gets up, is because he knows he’s got to go help solve a crime.


End file.
